


This Bitter Chill Inside

by WinterBitesBlack



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Natasha Feels, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, SHIELD, buckynat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:32:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterBitesBlack/pseuds/WinterBitesBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Captain America:The Winter Soldier. It's been three months since SHIELD fell, and its now slowly beginning to reform. Steve has been searching for Bucky Barnes, but aside from some blurry traffic camera footage and secret Hydra bases burning down, the trail has been cold, until a call is received. Winter has come, and he's starting to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first take at a fan fiction, always always glad to hear feedback. Not a reader of the comics but has done some research. I try to pay tribute to both comics and mcu, hopefully they work out nicely.

"He hasn't said a word so far. Not since it took twelve men to get him in a pair of handcuffs alone."

"Eleven men and a woman, Fury." Maria corrects the director, proudly sporting a few cuts and bruises, and she was correct in fact after spending the past few hours patrolling what was left of what was originally thought to be some freak accident, a Hydra base.

"And a woman." He mutters, rolling his eye that before now, had been trained on the pacing figure behind the glass. Reversible, bullet proof glass that is.

Steve Rogers himself is tensed to move, although knowing not much can be done at the moment. "I want to see him. We don't know-"

He's cut off by Fury, who finishes his sentence curtly, "We dont know what he's capable of till he get someone brave enough to get close enough to that arm. We're still waiting on Stark to come and take a crack at it. We don't know what it can do but we've seen what he's capable of, We don't know where his train of thought is. He's a threat and we're gonna treat the situation as a threat. He just went on a killing spree, a Hydra killing spree, but I don't give a damn." 

Maria steps forward apologetically, interjecting herself into the conversation as the peace maker as Rogers looks ready to put up a fight. "We need to have him evaluated first and put under max security as it is... just to be safe. Like Fury said, we dont know where his mind is at right now. We could all be at risk. He's your friend but he's also had a few screws loosened and redone and loosened again, its just a risk. But if we're going to let anyone try and reason with him, its you, Captain."

 Steve's jaw tenses, but he backs down knowing she's got a point, even if he completely disagrees with it. He-Bucky.. he's been played with for the past 70 years. He's been molded and reshaped into a killer. But he's Bucky, Bucky knows him. Bucky who watched out for him.. That little guy from Brooklyn. Bucky who jumped when Steve was the one falling. But the Winter Soldier was as real as Bucky was. Steve saw it in his eyes, how they were cold and unfeeling, completely withdrawn from everything but the hunt. He'd also seen The Winter Soldier defeated in those desperate seconds before the helicarrier came down, that final recognition. Even half conscious he could see the horror that stopped that metal fist from coming down once again and eventually ending Captain America. Bucky had won. Right?

All the while Natasha hadn't said a word, trained by Steve's side she's kept her eyes trained onto the soldier. Through the glass he stands in a SHIELD provided jumpsuit, like what prisoners wear. In a way he is like that of a prisoner, kept pent up. He's deadly. She sees him, sees how his eyes continually dart to the exits, sizing them up, knowing that now is not the time to make an escape attempt or else he'd be long gone by now. His eyes, chilled like ice, always find their way back to the glass though. He knows they are watching, even if he can't see them. He knows they are there, and for a small second she allows herself to think that he knows her too.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Its been three days. At least he's pretty sure it's been three days. Three days since he'd been captured and locked inside the big cold room not unlike that of a jail cell. But here there was the large mirror where he knew he was being watched.   
The Winter Soldier had refused the food provided,but after some speculation had accepted water. Rations were brought in twice a day, around 5 hours apart, he had counted. Whoever was behind the glass, sometime a male, sometimes female, would project their voice inside from an invisible intercom, ordering him to retreat to the walls, hands pressed against its cool surface. It was almost humorous, he thought, in a dark and twisted kind of way. That here he was again in a cage. But he would be out soon. They'd brought him the Iron Man a day ago, flanked by shielded and padded others, a gun at their sides. And the Winter Soldier had been expected to comply. The man wore a suit, for his own protection.  
"So you're the guy everyone's been looking for. Can't say I'm not impressed, sinking a few enemy bases single handedly, no pun intended."  
The Winter Soldier was quiet, his pale eyes watchful and wary, crossing from the iron man, Stark, to the others, his ''guards".  
"Speaking of single handedly.. I'd like to take a look at that arm. May I?"  
The Winter Soldier was still silent yet extended his arm, knowing that the question was but a nicely put order. The arm flexed, making soft whirring noises as the chinks shifted, the unfeeling fingers clenched into a fist and relaxed. Stark watched it all with acute fascination, the arm was amazing. An almost perfect rendition of its model in indestructible steel, if Rogers was right and he could catch the shield... Oh it must be something magnificent indeed. Hungry, his fingers reached out to touch the red star of the Winter Soldier's fore arm and the line was crossed. His blue eyes flarred with emotion for the first time and it was barely seconds before the same arm swung that the others in the room jumped to action and another second, before the room went black.   
The next time he awoke, groggy, the word 'Tranquilizers' registered in his mind, the Winter Soldier had been defeated. He didn't escape Hydra for this shit. Irritated, his metal hand slapped the wall leaving no more damage than scuffing it, a sharp sound ringing out. The intercom clicked alive, off course their 24/7 surveillance knew he was awake. And the deep voice of someone he'd previously hunted filled the room. Director Nick Fury.  
"Next time you want to pull a little stunt like that, I suggest you don't."


	3. Chapter 3

"Look, Rogers. When you go in... Just.. Don't forget what he can do. Stark's rigged the arm best as he can, basically so he can't punch down a wall if he gets the urge to, but he could still kill you in 37 and a half different ways." Maria finished her obligatory precautions, raising her apprehensive eyes to meet Steve Rogers' anxious ones, the ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Just be careful. And don't do anything stupid. One wrong move and we're just a second away." She extended an arm to touch his, giving it an encouraging squeeze.  
Steve nodded in understanding, taking yet another deep breath. Please let this go right. Please let Bucky be the man he was soon to face. The last time he had encountered the Winter Soldier it had nearly been a deadly experience. But Steve had to be confident. If anyone could draw Bucky out it was Steve. He was with him till the end of the line. They could only tell so much judging by how Bucky had tried to punch Tony Stark in the face, half of SHIELD had punched him in the face and some point and the other half had thought about it.  
Steve took a step toward the door.  
"Steve." Natasha called out, speaking for the first time and Steve stopped himself mid-step to turn and look at her, a question in his face.  
She walked up to him, wetting her lips before putting a folded and yellowed photograph in his hand.  
"A little something I dug up." She said, before he had even stopped to unfold it, brows bunched up in confusion. "Maybe it'll be useful. Now -um. Go get em, Rogers." She urged, giving him a nod and an awkward smile of encouragement.

"Hands on top of the table, approximately six inches apart. Don't try anything funny. And.... Enjoy your visit." The intercom voice was the same as usual, the woman's voice this time and not the man. They alternated most days. But the message was different, and as was the room. He'd been moved this morning, he knew because the tray of food he'd ignored today so far was eggs. Scrambled. The Winter Soldier was still refusing food, and now it was starting to edge on him. His time away from Hydra had spoiled him. Food was rationed, a privilege. Here it was everywhere and he had indulged quite a bit in his first days of freedom. Cheeseburgers were something to admire in this nation.   
The room was still cold, bigger than his cell. It was furnished with only a long metal table, which he decided was so that he and whoever would be interrogating him would be at enough distance apart that he couldn't take a swing like he had with Stark and his stupid facial hair.  
Obeying, somewhat grudgingly, Bucky placed his hands over the table top, his eyes never broke away from the door even before it opened, causing his muscles to tense, every instinct urged him for fight or flight, not even relaxing when he saw the face of his "visitor". The man from the bridge. He knew him.  
Steve walked slowly, examining the face of his brother, watching every slight change of stature, every shifting of the eyes and noticing, a look of recognition.   
"Mind if I sit?" He asked to try and be polite, let Bucky know that he had the power to say no, to say anything.   
The Winter Soldier was apprehensive yet he nodded in response.   
Steve sat down, the folded photograph still in his hand, and finally he unfolded it and couldn't hide back the smile.  
Two prepubescent idiots posing for a picture that Steve remembered like yesterday. Before Sarah Rogers had gotten sick, and treated her two boys to a day at the pictures. It'd really been a treat back then, with money being so tight. Steve had worn his best Sunday clothes and he thought he looked real spiffy, just coming down from his latest cold. Bucky was beaming in a starched shirt, a new tie and his hair slicked back, obviously thinking he was quite a looker(he really was), and his arm around the kid half a foot shorter and 30 pounds lighter. It was a good day. Steve couldn't remember the movie, but he remembered his mother urging them to smile, and Bucky giving a big toothy grin before smirking at the camera and Steve, well he just looked tickled to be there.   
Back in the present Steve smiled, silently thanking Natasha. This was good, he thought. A good start. He turned his face up, to meet those pale eyes that watched him oddly.  
"Do you remember this?" He asked, and slid the picture across the table, where after a moment, it was retrieved. His face grew clouded, nearly unreadable, as Bucky Barnes scanned the photo.   
Apprehensive, Steve decided to keep talking. "I can't remember what movie it was for the life of me.. But I remember getting all spiffed. And mom. That camera was probably her most prized possession. I just wish I could remember what movie it-"  
"The Great Gatsby." Bucky's voice was hoarse from not being used in so long, and it came out barely a whisper but Steve noticed all the same.  
"What was that?" He asked, not allowing himself to yet relish in the fact that... Bucky had spoken?  
"It was The Great Gatsby." Bucky said again, more clearly now.  
Steve sat there for a second before slapping the table lightly, he had to keep the ball moving. This was Bucky. There wasn't any reason to tip toe around Bucky. He was a person like any other. He had to be treated like a human to act human, Steve's new creed. "You know.. I think you're right. With...." He furrowed his brows in thought, snapping his fingers in conclusion "with Lois Wilson as Daisy. What a dame she was."  
After some thought, The Winter Soldier nodded, surprising even himself with the knowledge. The conversation was easy, and he kept it up, feeling an unnamable ease around this one. He felt he could be trusted. But his instincts told him that that was all the more reason to be cautious. Yet still, Bucky knew him, and it could not hurt to keep up the ruse. Could it even be called a ruse? He remembered... But this was a long time ago. Still he continued.  
"You know I always preferred red heads."


	4. Chapter 4

On a screen they watched the Winter Soldier. He paced the room as he usually did to pass the time. Occasionally flexing his metal arm. Natasha had noticed the frequency of the action, and Fury hypothesized that it was from Stark's tampering. It was deemed cruelty to take the arm away, and Tony found a way to simply tone down the bad assery of the prosthetic. He couldn't punch down walls or rip apart cars at the moment. It must be really bothering him. Natasha wondered briefly if that was because he'd been planning something but put the thought away. He'd been compliant until people invaded whatever boundaries he had set up. It was a genuine effort if his part.   
"Barnes reacted relatively well to Rogers. He didn't try and break his arm or anything so I'd say we're improving. I even think he laughed but it looked really terrifying from the camera... Anyway. Remember. He doesnt like being touched, keep a good distance away. Eye contact is fine, just terrifying." Maria Hill handed the file over the Natasha with a small anxious smile. "Seriously. Watch his hands. Even Steve pushed his luck with the personal space. But he talked! And it wasn't Russian or growling or death threats. All good signs. Just you know, try and talk to him. We want to see how he functions around someone not as annoying as Tony Stark and not someone he grew up with. If you feel like things are going exceptionally well, try and get him to eat something we're actually starting to wonder just how long he can endure. Nick wanted to let him starve as long as he wants but-" Maria clasped her hands together and shrugged, "you know."  
Natasha nodded again, clutching the folder to her chest. Her face remained diplomatic, passive and professional. Chill. Inside she was shaking. "I can handle it." She assured cooly.  
Maria nodded, confident in her, leaning over to speak into the intercom, issuing usual routine warning was issued through the intercom to the room inside. A second later the mechanical door rolled open and with a wave to Maria, Natasha's hand tightened around the folder and she began to walk. Chest tight. Breath held.   
Natasha tensed as she saw him standing feet away. His back was to her and she crossed to the table, never removing her eyes from him. He looked gaunt, very tense himself. His metal fingers drummed against the wall and she almost smiled. He was getting impatient. She wouldn't tease him much longer.  
"Would you care to join me?" She asked, proud of the normality in her voice.  
He turned then and their eyes met. Those beautiful eyes the color of ice looked at her with recognition, but not the kind that she wanted. All the same it didn't stop her from gasping out loud which stopped the soldier dead in place. He hesitated before continuing, seating himself at the opposite edge of the table. He looked better in a way, he must have finally accepted a shower. His long stringy hair was fresh and clean looking. His beard remained intact, by personal choice or not she knew no one would trust him with a razor.  
They watched each other for a long moment, waiting for something to happen that never would, not even knowing exactly what that was. Finally Natasha cleared her throat and opened the file. Maybe there was something new there that she hadn't already committed to memory.  
"Hello." Was her big opener.  
The Winter Soldier nodded in greeting. His chiseled face somewhat skeptical, she could see it in his eyes. He was trying to figure her out. This stranger.  
"Do you remember me?" She asked dutifully. Not until the last few months, at best.  
The soldier nodded his head again, remembering their encounter on the bridge. She had damaged his goggles, had played him for a fool. He had shot her.   
"I shot you." He said in a hoarse voice, clearing his throat after.  
"Twice." She added, and upon seeing the confusion on his face she stood up, ignoring how he immediately tensed, and nudged the neck of her shirt down exposing her collar bone and the still healing wound. "Recent and..." Her hands tugged up the hem of her shirt, revealing her slim stomach and the circular scar on her abdomen. ".. And old." The shirt went back down and she retook her seat.  
The Winter Soldier's brows had knitted together in concentration, already he knew the answer and it made him sick to his stomach. He'd been wiped. His eyes dropped to stare a hole into the table top.  
"No need to apologize." Natasha shrugged nonchalantly, secretly savoring the look on his face. Even remorse was something. She wanted to do more, climb over the table and tell him it was okay. Sometimes she didn't know what was real either. But she didn't. She stayed put, pulling a photograph from the folder. One she knew well of a handsome and young soldier, a sergeant, looking dashing in his uniform. She slid it across the table.  
"You were very handsome." She noted, looking him in the face apprehensively. He still was handsome.  
His face remained stoic. His eyes scanned the picture with a mixture of emotions, all of which were closely guarded under lock and key.  
"Tell me five things about yourself." She inquired, her mind flaking on what to say. This would be a good exercise anyway. They'd urged her to do something like this anyway. She couldn't leave now, even if all they did was play twenty questions. It was something for two people who had nothing.   
He looked confused all over again before realizing she was serious and she expected an answer.   
He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Five things.... He decided to start simple. The simple things were important. He had a name.  
"My name is James Buchanan Barnes. My friends called me Bucky. I grew up in Brooklyn. I was in the army. I died."  
Natasha nodded slowly in encouragement. "Tell me more, please James. " she said politely.  
At this he shook his head no.  
"Your turn."  
This took her aback but it brought the smallest of smiles to touch her lips. Give some, get some. She admired that.  
"My name is Natasha Romanov. I worked for the KGB. They made me believe that I had been a ballerina long ago. I had not. And sometimes it makes things hard to believe, to know what's real and what is not." Relatable. A good start. Reaching out. Natasha would have congratulated herself bad the situation differed. "Now you." She said, pointing a finger his way. He had digested her five facts, and she saw from his expression that five facts were going to get harder and harder to come up with. To push his mind.  
"I am fluent in Russian. I think that there are other languages also but I don't remember learning any of them. Steve Rogers was.. Is.. My best friend." A pained look flitted across his face for an instant, barely noticeable. He didn't know what to call him now. "I am the Winter Soldier, and Hydra should have let me die. It would not take long to die, after falling from a train and losing an arm. I was told that I was lucky, but I disagree." He finished carefully, icy eyes locked to her face.   
All Natasha could manage was "That was more than five. Thank you."  
Not necessarily what he had expected, but then again expectations weren't always reliable.   
"I am the black widow, I am a black widow.. I mean. There were others. I betrayed Russia to work for Shield. I was trained by-"  
Natasha never got to finish her sentence because at that exact moment the doors of the room swung open and a breathless Maria Hill ran in "Natasha! Come quick!" Something was more important than protocol. Surprised Natasha and whirled her head around, her back to the man that could easily bring her death by the slip up. Startled she spun back around to face the man himself but he wasn't where she had seen him last. He was on his feet and at her side, a strong hand grabbed her wrist, holding her into place despite being too surprised to fight it.  
"I want you to finish this. Later." The hand retracted and Natasha, not knowing what else to do looked at him and then ran after Maria.  
The heavy file containing past of James 'Bucky' Barnes and The Winter Soldier was left open on the table. Left alone once again, he took it for a bit of reading.


	5. Chapter 5

The Winter Soldier, no, James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky, his fingers held the file like a vise. He was alone now, after the woman with red hair fled the doors had locked tight behind her. He was on his own again. Still he was paranoid that she or anyone else would rush back and he'd be ordered to face the wall while the folder was confiscated. No, this time he would fight back. 

Natasha was right on Maria's heels. She didn't know what it was but it must be important. Bless Maria. Even obviously distressed and breathless she did her best to try and get Nat on in the loop. But the only thing that were really intelligible was a few words to make her heart collapse on itself.  
"Hydra- they- ah- Barnes-shit. Fury is pissed-" Maria sputtered and led her to a crowded room. A large television was switched on to the news.  
The room was silent.   
Nick Fury's face was grim when he finally spoke.  
"Cut off the head of a snake.."  
"and another shall grow in its place." Steve answered stepping forward, his arms crossed across his chest. The whole room was thick with tension. The television showed a woman, a reporter with curled blonde hair and a too white smile talking about recent information that could lead to new suspects of the Kennedy assassination... Conspiracy theorists everywhere rejoice.   
"wha- what is this?" Confused Natasha inquired, finally finding her tongue.  
Nick was somber. For once his anger was something that couldn't touch the surface. It was something so.. So concentrated that it was scary.  
"They want their boy back, or they want to make sure that the world will know who their winter soldier really is. Basically.. Hydra is having a damn field day. News of the winter soldier surfaces, and we're the ones caught housing the fugitive. And it starts out small. Some insignificant information gets leaked, its forgotten after a few weeks. But oh wait, here's some pictures too. You see that big ass glimpse of metal arm? Hydra oh so helpfully chips in, why, they know a guy with a big ass metal arm! Who is this guy with a big as metal arm, only the 97 year old in the prime of his youth war hero turned Soviet assassin! Guess what, they know where he is too. And who know who's ass gets roasted? My ass gets roasted. Your ass gets roasted. His ass gets roasted. Everyone's. Ass. Is. Roasted."   
Obviously Natasha was taken aback. She blinked several times before speaking, finding her tongue at last. "We have to move him. He can't be under SHIELD."  
"But where?" Steve spoke up. His face was grim. Apprehensive. This was his friend. The one thing he had left of a lost home. Steve had the most to lose. The man in the other room remembered Steve.  
"Maybe the tower... We can talk to Stark. And "loan" some people to keep the winter soldier secure." Maria suggested.  
"Count me in. No matter what, I'm in this." Always loyal Steve.  
"And me." Natasha added, even though it felt so freaking cheesy.  
Nick frowned, pondering the idea for a moment. "You realize this is a terrible idea right?"  
The whole room consecutively shrugged.  
"Lets just try not to get anyone killed this week, please."

 

Bucky devoured the photographs first. The bulk of which were of his younger, better, two armed days before the war. There was a footnote at the end of a sort of prewar biography that many of said pictures were donated by Rebecca Barnes, his younger sister who grew up to live a nice life, one with a family of her own and old age. It must have been nice, perhaps one of the only nice things in the file of a boy who died too young and came back on the wrong side.  
It seemed as though each sheet of paper was a tale of woe, and the star of the show was never even seen. A certain billionaire couple are driving home at night and swerve to avoid hitting a ghost. A parade turns sour when a certain president catches a bullet. A tower burns down. A bomb goes off. People die. They die from so many ways. Some seem natural. Some raise questions but people still die. They all die.   
Sometimes there are flashes, blurry, or black pictures. Sometimes there's a glint of silver. A silhouette. A hand. Odd photographs someone might never have considered, thrown away, forgotten about. Insignificant screw ups. These were his pictures, his history. He absorbed it all like a sponge, mindlessly flipping page by page, examining picture by picture. He didn't know how long he spent there but no one ever came back. After opening the file it wasn't even on his mind, he was utterly and completely transfixed, not even worrying about who might be watching from the glass window mirror. When he finished.. That was that. It was done. He put the entire folder back together, everything as it was. It was placed neatly on the table. It was by far an odd experience, feeling so... Clear.   
When they brought him the usual tray for dinner, it was for once, brought in, not by a nameless agent, but by Nick Fury himself. The tall man walked into the room, trench coat blowing in wind that didn't exist, holding a cafeteria tray containing something that looked like green jello.   
Bucky stood with his hands against the wall, watching warily from his corner of the room.   
Fury crossed the room, placing the tray on the table with a clack. The green jello wobbled in place. His good eye landed on the file and he picked it up without saying a word, tucking it underneath his arm, betraying no reaction, no emotion. He turned to leave the room and Bucky Barnes relaxed. Sliding his arms to his sides before Fury had even yet left the room.  
"Fury." He called out and the man stopped in his tracks.  
"The Winter Soldier I suppose is an ironic name. It gets very cold in this room.." He paused, brows furrowed as he chose his words carefully, chanting in his mind 'dont be weird. Dont be an assassin. Do not be weird.'   
"I would be much obliged to be granted another blanket." Humility. That was good, perhaps?  
The Director of SHIELD left the room without another word. Perhaps he was still a bit sore after getting shot a few times.   
Five minutes later there was an odd noise coming from the ceiling and the vents started letting out beautiful warmed air. On a hunch Bucky left he corner to stand in front of the large mirror and say thank you, wondering if he'd be heard. Then he enjoyed some reconstituted mashed potatoes and what may have been meat loaf. Followed by green jello. It was horrible. He enjoyed it thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was difficult to write, but I hope its deemed readable.  
> I'm considering eventually doing a side story of the compilations of The Winter Soldier's file. Thoughts? Comments?


End file.
